Vampiric Serpent
by HauntinglyCrimson
Summary: All his life, emotion was something foreign. Apathy was an old friend, a lover. With no remorse, no emotion, Harry will cut a bloody path to his goals. Bathed in the blood of innocents and criminals alike, can Harry live his life the way he wants? Or will he be dragged under the endless amounts of manipulation. Vampire!Harry DarkArts!Harry Apathetic!Harry Harry/Fleur, No Harem!
1. Chapter 1

Authors Note

Yes, Yes, I know, I too hate long author's notes, so I will just lay out some basic facts of this story right now, if you see something you don't like, well you just saved some of your time :).

Harry will drink human blood, and most likely by ways of deception or outright force. He won't flaunt his vampirism and ask adoring fangirls for a 'snack'.

Harry will have weaknesses. Nothing disgusts me more than a vampire fic where Harry doesn't need blood to survive, or is immune from sunlight.

Harry, while being strong, will most definitely NOT be super straight off, he will have an advanced foundation to build upon compared to most kids, but he will be nowhere near fighting with adults in drawn out wand fights before 3rd year at the earliest.

Harry will be dark. Period. End of story. Dark. But alas, don't despair, he won't join up with Voldemort, or Dumbledore, he will just be much more proficient in the dark arts. I won't have him be insane and sadistic(well, too sadistic), but I also won't have him be always happy. Sidenote- Harry will be apathetic for the most part, if you don't like that… well, bye?

This will either be Harry/Fleur or Harry/Daphne… only one of them, I absolutely despise harem fics, I believe they are the point where all good fanfics fall apart.

Let's get into the chapter! :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, as unfortunate as it is.

* * *

A blond haired woman lay fast asleep in a king sized bed, she appeared rather thin and seemed to have an abnormally long neck. She woke with a start as she heard a bloodcurdling scream, quickly getting out of bed while absently noticing that Vernon hadn't even stirred, she hurried down the hall, afraid her Dudley was in trouble.

Petunia came upon the nursery room, instantly checking the first crib, made of impeccable oak that cost a great deal, and smiled seeing her Dudley in a deep sleep, almost like a coma, her mind noted.

Glancing at the other crib, made of cheap looking blue plastic that looked like a child falling on it could break it, her lips curled into a sneer. It was her nephew, the child of her hated sister. He looked so innocent, porcelain pale skin that contrasted with his raven black hair in just the right way. His face was chubby, but had significantly less baby fat than should be expected of a child, and his lips were such a supernatural shade of red that she decided it had to do with his unnaturalness.

Feeling extremely irritated at the mere sight of him, daring to scream and wake her up. She wished dearly that she could dump him off at an orphanage but the man, Bumblebore, had threatened her and Vernon inadvertently, of course, that if he wasn't here they would be at the tender mercy of insane people, something about a dark lord and wards. Shooting one last glare at him, she sniffed and walked back to bed.

As she left, dark emerald eyes snapped open, looking far more intelligent than any child had a right to be, before the forces of sleep made them fall heavily, no one would ever be the wiser of the changes that happened that night.

Many pure blood families have some form of creature blood in them, but never had more than a passing trait or so from the blood. To awaken an actual creature transformation would take a great deal of energy that children simply don't have, and by the time they have it, their bodies are already too developed to ever implement a creature transformation.

The horcrux, the tiny piece of soul left behind by Voldemort, had been interacting with Harry's blood, changing it. The naturally dark nature of Voldemort's soul, much more powerful than a less than 2 years of age soul, had latched onto the only dark thing in the boy, his creature blood. It could have been any creature, really, and in the years to come after looking at his family tree he would thank all the deities he knew of that it was vampirism that the soul interacted with.

And on that night, Harry became a natural born vampire, a creature of the night. Deception was his nature, and bloodlust was his being. Instincts flooded into him, much like when a snake is born, it knows what to do. Like all vampires, ingrained into him was the fear of sun, the love of blood, and the joy of the night.

* * *

A/N

Cheesy? Cliche? I hope not, I promise that if you find this chapter scoff-worthy, that it will be better. It's always a little sketchy getting Harry to make such an integral change as being a vampire instead of human.

Short first chapter, I know. I will try to have all my chapters from here on out be at the minimum 3k+ words. Cheers!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: JK's wonderful universe of harry potter is not mine, and will never be mine.

* * *

Harry quietly closed the door behind him, making his escape from Number 5 privet drive under the cloak of night, his emerald eyes glowing in the night.

Wiping the remainder of blood away from his lips, he resolved to return to his victim frequently. Years ago he'd learned that female blood tasted better, it was more rejuvenating and he could practically feel his strength increasing.

At the age of 10, he cut a rather striking figure compared to others his age. His pale porcelain skin was something he took great pride in, he'd once overheard a group of teenage girls commenting how they wished they had his complexion. His raven hair contrasted his skin perfectly, framing an androgynous face. He hated that, he was always thought of and treated delicately as a result of his features. His blood red lips and high cheekbones only seemed to enhance his features as being neither masculine nor feminine. He just above average height, which he doubted would be the case if he was dependent on regular food.

'Mortals,' he thought blandly. They could never understand that he was faster than the best of them, stronger, had better analytical abilities. It was an insult that they treat him in such a manner, and then, the emotion was gone.

He cringed, a look of longing on his face as he slowly walked back to the Dursleys, comfortable under the shade of night. Ever since his ascension, as he liked to call it, he could never hold onto an emotion for very long, anger, hate, happiness, none of them stuck. He couldn't decide if he was a psychopath or apathetic, he prefered to think of the latter.

Reaching the door, he waved his hand while focusing on gaining entrance to the door, it clicked open and he could feel, what he liked to call his power pool, drain a small amount. Walking on, unlocking his cupboard, he sat down on the pillows he had 'borrowed' over the years.

Thinking intently, he attempted to summon light. Losing his focus twice before finally achieving a ball of light, he grabbed the only book in the cupboard 'Vampire Myths, Legend, And Lore'

Reading it, while occasionally wincing at the horribly incorrect depictions of his kind, he pondered upon his situation. He wasn't human, that had become painstakingly clear ever since he could make logical deductions, which was surprisingly early.

The sun irritated him, the night soothed him, welcoming him as one of it's own. Ever since he was born he was different, smarter, faster, stronger, alarmingly so. When he was eight years of age, the bloodlust had set in, and he'd drained his neighbor's dog without so much as a thought.

If he was capable of any intense emotion he was sure that he would have been horrorstruck, but instead he had researched, asking questions of nobody, after all, it couldn't be normal to drink dogs.

It was fairly simple to find, really, vampires were a surprisingly large spread topic in England. The texts were generally incredibly wrong, but it enlightened him, helped him. He'd always wondered where all his ingrained instincts and thoughts had come from, surely not every human could instinctively hate the sun, and revel in the night?

That marked the beginning of his 'bookworm' phase, he'd read all sorts of fiction, myths, legends on all sorts of different things, and tried them all. There was one thing that struck out to him, as if the word resonated with his soul, magic. There was all sorts of fictional speculation on magic, and after looking back on his life, at all the accidents that had happened that couldn't be explained… he had to try it.

That led to the most remarkable discovery, he could do magic. After many strenuous attempts, he'd produced a light source. The first time he'd done it, he'd passed out from exhaustion, and from that day on he could sort of 'feel' his amounts of magic.

He'd used magic to the utmost effect, feeding. The idea of feeding on humans was fascinating. He'd started small, he'd preyed on children at first, sneaking into homes while willing his magic to keep him silent, taking the sustenance that he so desired, so needed without them ever realizing.

If there is one thing that needs to be said, it's that human blood has a nearly the most amazing taste. Human blood cannot even be compared to animal blood, it was like comparing canned beans to a five star steak-not that he'd ever had steak.

With each feeding, his power pool would increase, grow ever larger. It seemed his power pool directly correlated with his physical and mental abilities, he got slightly more physically adept the more it grew, his mind grew clearer, he could meditate there for hours, slipping into his mind was peaceful, calming.

His mind seemed to be nighttime all the time. It was always dark, like a large shadow covering the whole world. To him, it was the best place in the world. Sometimes when his bloodthirst was particularly bad, hiding in shadows during schools recess time would still irritate him, and he would slip into his mind, where he could ignore the feeling and bask in the glory of shadows.

He found out quickly that if he willed his magic it could cover him and protect him from the sun, but it drained him so quickly that it wasn't practical for more than five minutes at the most, otherwise he would pass out.

As he willed his light away, and lay down his mind was thinking, always thinking. Was he the only one who could do these things? Was he special, or were there others out there who could do the same thing. With these thoughts plaguing him, he shut his eyes. He didn't need much sleep, but he still had to at least get a few hours, he was hoping that as he grew up he could eliminate that weakness.

* * *

"Boy! Breakfast better be ready before I go to work!" A voice hollered across the house.

Harry's eyes snapped open, and for a brief moment his lips curled into a sneer of irritation, but even that was lost as the endless apathy that seemed to define him swallowed it up.

Harry sighed with irritation, he would put his ever so gracious aunt and uncle in his place if it wasn't so bothersome. He didn't mind cooking, not really. It was a useful skill to have, even if he didn't need mortal food. When the Dursleys had tried making him do their chores when he was at the tender age of eight, Vernon's pants had spontaneously caught fire. He was never asked again.

They weren't the worst guardians, not really. They never attempted to physically abuse him, not that they could. It was mostly verbal, which he truly didn't care about. Sometimes he wished that he could feel emotion, any emotion, long enough to put them in their place, but alas apathy, he supposed, did not allow for him to feel justified with retaliation for what was, in his mind, something only slightly annoying. A sign of his unnaturalness, he supposed.

'It could be considered a blessing,' he mused, as he opened the cupboard and walked towards the kitchen starting upon dinner. 'After all, the ability to never give into emotion has aided me many times'

Serving the pancakes to Vernon and Dudley, he idly took in their appearances, he truly didn't envy them. Vernon was extremely overweight, had little neck to speak of, and his hair was greying. Dudley, while not as bad, he had no doubts that he would eventually be just as bad.

"I'm going outside," he told Petunia flatly. He was in no mood to stick around here for long at all, not when three houses down there was a highly attractive blond sleeping while her husband was at work. He had found out through the years that the taste and fulfillment of female blood seemed to directly relate to how attractive they were, he still couldn't figure that one out.

He had no doubt that were he a normal ten year old boy he would have never noticed the female body. It made him glad for his apathy, after all, he'd heard lust was a terrible motivator for things that he really had no wish to commit.

Grabbing his black hoodie, he slipped it over his slightly worn T-shirt. For all their faults, the Dursleys at least had the good grace to get him clothes that fit, used clothes, but clothes nonetheless.

As he walked out the door, he quickly flipped his hood on. He walked out, while simultaneously hiding his flinch of pain. Even with his skin completely covered by fabric, the sunlight still always shone through, getting at him no matter what.

He'd found out that he could lessen the pain with his magic, but it drained him incredibly fast. Even after his reserves had grown increasingly larger with his frequent meals, he could still barely put a protective layer over him for more than a minute.

Walking quicker, but not too quick as to looking like he was up to no good, he glared through his lashes in the direction of the sun. If there was one thing that he hated, despised, would commit the most heinous of crimes upon, it was the sun.

Even when he tried to act normal, he never was. A 'prodigy' they called him at school, and then when recess came around he became that 'one kid who sits in the shadows and has no friends.' No kids his age ever bothered to befriend him, whether intimidated by his intellect or just out of fright. It didn't bother him, he doubted he would be a very good companion anyway.

Getting closer to the house, he willed his magic to meld with the shadows. He felt the shadows envelop him, caress him. It was the one place he truly felt at home, as if he belonged. He'd found that his magic was exceptionally receptive to shadows, and that hiding within the shadows was much easier than trying to make himself invisible.

Feeling the drain on his reserves, he quickly slipped through the opened window, absentmindedly canceling his magic before he passed out. Walking into a room, he smiled at the sight of a vein bulging along the wrists of a sleeping woman. The rest, as they say, is history.

* * *

"Magic, you say?" Harry said slowly, his voice emotionless. He was, to say the least, irritated. The irritation had started ever since an old man in atrociously colored robes had showed up on his doorstep. The man, who had introduced himself as Albus Dumbledore, had invited himself in ever so politely.

Smiling serenely, "Yes my dear boy! You're a wizard. I'm here to invite you to the finest magical school in all of england, Hogwarts." he replied, eyes twinkling merrily. Keeping the same peaceful smile on his face, he internally frowned. When he tried to delve into the boy's mind… it was as if he was looking in the dark. Putting it down to circumstance of his surviving the killing curse, he put it in the back of his mind with a vow to study more upon it at a later date.

"I see, and you are the… headmaster, to this prestigious school?" Harry asked, he was amused. He'd always had theories of course, that there were others like him, but from the demonstration this man gave them, wizards relied upon those sticks… wands, to channel their magic.

He felt relieved, he had been worried that he was… normal, but just looking at this man he could tell two things. The first was that this man was completely human, and mortal. The second was that he was hopelessly outclassed, the amount of power that was essentially exploding off of his being made him feel inferior, as if he was a bug waiting to be squashed.

Dumbledore nodded his head, seeming completely at ease, "Indeed, now I don't believe I need to tell you this, you seem like a bright boy, and after my demonstration you must have at least a belief that magic is real. Now there are items that you are going to need for school, we can get this all conveniently at diagon alley, of course." He stated, as if it was a fact of life that Harry was in fact going to the school

Internally scoffing at the old man's presumptuous attitude, he reluctantly nodded. They both knew that he wanted to go, except he didn't know why he wanted to go.

On the inside, he was as close to ecstatic as he could get, he could get stronger, and learn all sorts of spells to aid him in his ambitions. One day, he vowed to himself, he would be able to ascend where no one else had dreamed of, where the sun had no power over him, where the shadows ran aplenty.

As Dumbledore reached for Harry's shoulder, preparing to apprate them out, Harry's eyes flashed a deep luminescent red, and unconsciously, in a trancelike state whispered out "After all, if the world isn't fit to live in, you must bathe it in fire and mold it the way you'd like."

They disappeared with a crack, the words lost in the wind.

* * *

AN

After deep thought, I've decided for this to be a Harry/Fleur.

Before you protest, I've been thinking about my plot (Yes, I do have a plot that I have already planned, I'm not just writing blindly then abandoning) and Fleur would complement it wonderfully. After all Vampire/Veela, Emotionless/Passionate. It makes a nice contrast, ne?

By the way, I would like to think that I'm a decent writer and make very few grammatical mistakes in the scope of things, but it does happen, tell me if I'm doing anything horribly wrong that needs to be beaten out of me please! First and foremost this is a project to help improve my writing so that it is second nature to me.

Cheers!


	3. Chapter 3

I'd just like to start off this chapter by thanking you guys for the support! :)

I'm trying to churn out a chapter of 2k+ words per day out for this first week, a sort of opening week of sorts, just don't expect it to last for long. Anywho, thank you all who review, I promise that I read each and every single review/pm once, twice, even thrice!

Important topic: I am going to do the first three years rather quickly, no more than 10k words each. My reasons for this is that I don't particularly enjoy child Harry, and the triwizard tournament is too badass to be passed over. Ever. (I wonder if every author is as pumped to do their triwizard as I am, it almost makes me want to skip to it, and give a summary, but alas, that is bad story structure I suppose.)

Let's get into the chapter! :)

Disclaimer: HP isn't mine… maybe one day JK will split up pieces of HP to all of us adoring fanfiction writers on her deathbed. Yeah, you're right, probably not.

* * *

Submerging from his pensieve with a contemplative expression on his face, Albus Dumbledore was bewildered.

It all made sense now, the blank mind, his unnatural grace and beauty for a child of his age. He was still kicking himself for not immediately noticing the boys aversion of sunlight, and his almost unnoticeable wincing as he struggled to suppress his signs of pain while walking under said light.

Sighing, Dumbledore looked at his loyal companion, Fawkes. Put to rest as the majestic phoenix trilled his encouragement to it's friend.

"I suppose… that I will have to be keeping an eye on you, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore murmured. After all, vanquisher of the Dark Lord or not, he would not allow his students to come under any danger.

Giving one last withering look that seemed extremely out of place on his grandfatherly face, Dumbledore walked off to prepare for the coming school year.

* * *

Propped up, chin laying on his hand, Harry Potter lay in compartment reading a book. As he absently committed '101 ways to hide your presence,' he very nearly gave into the temptation to sigh, but such gestures were below him in such a public setting.

His life had been turned upside down this past month, being famous for something he had no recollection of, being left a modest sum of money from his parents, and perhaps most mind boggling of all, his vampirism, something that he had treasured above all, was not unique to him only.

Vampires were rare, of course, but in the wizarding world it wasn't uncommon for there to be vampires skulking around. Immediately after this discovery, he had gone into a study frenzy, buying every book that there was on the topic of vampirism. It had left him a large chunk of gold poorer, but he would never regret making such an amazing purchase.

He'd found out a great deal of his race. Whereas vampires used to be universally feared by all wizards alike, and feared for good reason. There used to be vampires capable of terrible things, the top ranking vampires, aptly named first generation vampires due to the vast majority being pureblood vampires, were capable of such large scale destruction that it would leave even the likes of Albus Dumbledore and Voldemort in awe.

Ranking were something that he had obsessed over, it was something that could prove his competence. Vampires were ranked from first all the way to thirteenth generation, and were he to rank himself roughly, he would put himself at twelfth generation at the most, although him being the weakest, a thirteenth generation was a distinct possibility.

There were test for such things, but he wasn't willing to walk into anything vampire related yet, he was too weak. If he went in their asking for a test of power, while a rather simple process that took a meager amount of time, it was likely they would kill him for his impertinence.

The vampire side of the wizarding world was in disarray, third generations fighting amongst each other for power, and the only second generation left, Iverston Drakul, seemingly not caring. One day… he swore that he would kill Iverston Drakul and take his place.

To fulfill such an ambition, he needed power, power to at least equal the likes of Dumbledore and Voldemort, until then he could do nothing but avoid an encounter with other vampires.

His train of thought was abruptly interrupted by the compartment door sliding, glaring through his bangs for all of three seconds, he examined the mortal who interrupted his thoughts of the future. He seemed rather… awkward, for lack of better terms. With red hair, a rather chubby face, a disproportionate frame, and freckles littering his face, he looked the very image of gangly preteen.

"Yes?" Harry drawled, not looking up from his book.

The impertinent child seemed entirely too happy to make himself at home, swinging his trunk onto the shelf and sitting down lazily. "I was just coming to sit here, not many compartments that aren't full in our year, you know?" He replied, and at that very moment, Harry decided just from the sound of his voice… oh that voice, that ear grating voice, that he very much would like to be separated from this child.

The emotion came and went within the frame of a few seconds, and Harry decided that he would studiously ignore the other boy.

"My names Ron, Ron Weasley." Harry silently bemoaned his luck, it seemed that this one was slow on the uptake and couldn't take a hint. Staying silent, and pretending for all the world that the other child was either dead or not there at all.

It seemed, that the world hated him, because at that very moment, he said something that irked Harry. "Bloody hell mate, you really shoul-."

The child, Ron if he recalled, was abruptly cut off as he whipped out his wand, Yew with Dragon Heartstrings 10 ½ inches, and silently intoned a spell that particularly caught his interest when he was reading.

'Stupefy,' he thought, and had the ridiculous urge to smile as the power rushed through him. How dare that fool curse the name of blood in vain. Blood was the one constant in his life, it kept him alive, it gave him power, and while it didn't run through his veins, it certainly ran through his life force.

He suddenly stopped, his mind going into a curious state of befuddlement… Did he even have veins? And if so, what ran through them? Something to study in the future to be sure.

With the redhead soundly asleep, or knocked out, he went back into his peace. Glancing at his wand almost fondly, he was amazed at the difference it made. Channeling his magic with his wand compared to his brand of what was apparently 'wandless' was like comparing lifting boulders instead of using a tractor. Everything came so much easier, it was like his whole life he had been doing magic wrong.

Humming to himself, he went back to his book, admirably ignoring the loud snores that the redhead was producing.

* * *

Harry sat comfortably at slytherin table, seeming for all the world oblivious to all the glances that were being thrown his way.

He was amused, in fact, the only emotion that he could ever feel for extended periods of time was amusement. The slytherins thought themselves sneaky, stealing glances at him when they thought he wasn't looking, whispering when they thought he wouldn't notice.

The only thing that he could be bothered to think of at the moment was why the black haired professor at his table was looking at him with such loathing that it almost made him retaliate by virtue. Reeling in his bloodlust, after all, it wouldn't look good if he sucked a professor dry in front of hundreds of people, he made eye contact.

Severus snape sneered as he looked at the Potter brat. His mind was a whirling mess, this couldn't be Lily's child, he looked nothing like either Lily or that bloody James Potter. 'Lily couldn't have had an affair, could she?' Snape thought with dawning horror, it was bad enough that Lily had done… that, with James Potter, but the idea of her, putting herself out there, so to speak, was simply horrifying.

Averting his eyes from the child's, a much darker emerald green than Lily's ever were, he noted, and went back to his meal.

Harry smiled as the man broke off the staring contest, he always won, after all, there was no need for a vampire to blink. Frowning at his food, which was untouched due to the fact that it would wreak havoc upon his digestive system, he paid attention to what Dumbledore was standing up to say.

Turns out, his attention span was much smaller than he thought, all he remembered was to investigate the third floor corridor, and the inexplicable urge to facepalm for the first time in his life.

Walking to his dorm, and eyeing up the particularly attractive fifth year prefect, he decided that his first ever taste of wizard blood would come from her. Looking forward to tonight, for he was sure that magical purebloods simply had to taste better than muggles, he dutifully followed the prefects.

* * *

Alright, and that's it for this chapter!

As I said before, I will be skipping all trivial things from here on out all the way to fourth year, so expect some speedy years. Don't be surprised if when you come back, I start it off at the broom lessons, or even with Harry aspiring to search the third floor corridor.

Thank you for all your support and reviews, they fill me up with happiness and delight. :)

See you guys hopefully tomorrow with next chapter, cheers!


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